


This Darkness Light

by iamjasonssmirkingrevenge (mizzykitty)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Dark fic, M/M, Pedophilia, evil!Bruce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzykitty/pseuds/iamjasonssmirkingrevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason loves his life, he really does. Sometimes, he can even forget what goes on down in the Batcave in the middle of the night. It's not a big deal, really, and it's all worth it...isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ersatz

**Author's Note:**

> [Mikimoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikimoo/pseuds/Mikimoo) challenged me to write a headcanon of hers involving always-a-paedophile!Bruce. Challenge accepted. Needless to say she is entirely to blame for this.
> 
> Please note this is a very dark fic. Warnings are in place. Please heed.

**_This horror will grow mild, this darkness light._ \- John Milton, Paradise Lost**

Jason stared at the smashed, almost unrecognisable body of a dragonfly stuck to the windshield of the Batmobile. It was inches from his face and its delicate, translucent wings fluttered with each breath he took, in and out evenly through his mouth as he breathed through the pain. The bug almost looked like it was still alive, struggling futilely against all odds, but it wasn’t. It had the good sense to stay dead. 

Batman grunted something behind him as he pressed Jason harder against the Batmobile’s hood, crushing him beneath his considerable weight. It was getting harder to breathe, and though the burn-stretch rub-raw friction was becoming near unbearable, he didn’t struggle, didn’t utter a sound as he concentrated on that bug on the windshield. He wondered if Dick had been allowed to speak, to moan or hiss or cry. Maybe it was different for him, like Batman was gentler, or kinder somehow. Maybe he’d even liked it. Some days, he desperately wanted to believe that Dick had been happy here, that it hadn’t been this way for him, that it was just Jason’s fault, because Dick was beautiful and perfect and everything he was not. 

Batman shuddered against him. “Dick,” he growled in Jason’s ear.

And some days, he hoped that fucker cried himself to sleep every goddamn night.

***

“This is great, Alfie, thanks,” Jason said as he shovelled another forkful of banana pecan pancake into his mouth.

“You’re welcome.” Alfred gave him a warm smile. “Did you complete your book report for English class? It’s due today, isn’t it?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, I think Miss Anderson’s gonna like it.”

“I only read the first draft, but I think she will too. Your grasp of the themes and symbolism in the novel were spot on.”

Jason grinned down at his plate, feeling a rush of pride and accomplishment. He’d never liked school all that much, back B.B. (Before Bruce) but then again, his school had been little more than a day jail for kids, with just a handful of overworked, miserable teachers doling out useless busywork to a bunch of kids who couldn’t care less. Elliot Academy was different. Everything was new - the books, the desks, even the bathrooms - and the teachers actually gave a shit whether you learned anything or not. It had been hard, at first, catching up to where the other kids were in his grade, but it hadn’t taken too long, and Jason had unexpectedly enjoyed the challenge.

Stuff like this – Alfred’s pancakes, school, the house, Robin – it made it easy to justify what went on down in the Batcave in the small hours of the morning. There was such a clear delineation between _that_ and the rest of his life that he could just pretend that _that_ was happening to someone else entirely. Besides, Dad used to say that nothing in life was free, that everything had a price, even people. If this was his price, then really, it wasn’t so bad. Sure, it hurt, but there were a lot of things that hurt worse, like when Dad used to come home after he’d lost his paycheck at the track, fueled by rage and alcohol and just looking for someone to take it out on. At least Bruce never hit him for no reason. And it wasn’t like Bruce was old or gross or anything – in fact, Jason thought he was probably the hottest thing on two legs, well, behind Dick, who was like, movie star hot in a way that defied reality. So what if Batman never let him take off the suit, or looked him in the face, or called him by his name? Let Bruce have his fantasy; he was entitled to it. After all, who wouldn’t rather fuck Dick Grayson than Jason Todd?

“Jason? Are you finished? You don’t want to be late for school.”

Jason looked up from his plate to find Alfred frowning down at him with some concern. “Oh…yeah. Here,” he said, shoving his plate into Alfred’s hands. He stuffed the last forkful of food into his mouth and dropped the fork onto the plate with a clatter. “I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”

Alfred sighed. “Chew, swallow, then speak.”

“Sorry!” Jason yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted up the stairs to retrieve his backpack.

On their way out the door, they ran into Bruce in the hallway. He was in his bathrobe, his hair still damp from the shower. Jason’s breath caught at the sight of him, his stomach squirming with emotions he could neither name nor explain. All he knew was that he desperately wanted Bruce to acknowledge him, to say something to him, anything at all.

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted. “I’ve left you a pot of fresh coffee in the kitchen, and some pancakes warming in the oven, if you’re feeling peckish.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said. 

“Hey, Bruce,” Jason said tentatively. 

Bruce smiled down at him with that blindingly perfect smile of his, and Jason felt that thing in his stomach kick him in the ribcage. “Good morning, Jason. Have a good day at school today,” he said, giving Jason’s shoulder a warm squeeze.

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as a grin split his face from ear to ear. God, how did he ever get so fucking lucky? Moments like these made it all worthwhile, and if Bruce hadn’t quite looked him in the eye then well, that was easy enough to ignore.

***

“Hey Todd, over here!” someone called from across the crowded lunchroom.

Jason saw JR Morris, a popular senior, waving him over to his table. Back at his old school, Jason had been an outcast, a non-joiner in a school dominated by gang culture. He’d never been too bothered by not being popular there, just because to attain status meant he’d have to break the law to get in with a gang, but he’d always secretly wished it could be different. Who didn’t want to be like the kids on TV, with friends and parties and stuff? 

Well, his mom used to say, be careful what you wish for, and he reckoned she was right. He figured he was one of the most popular kids at Elliot Academy. He certainly had no lack of kids who wanted to be his friend, though it had less to do with his awesome personality than with Bruce Wayne’s money, and he knew it. Frankly, popularity wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He’d recently read Stranger in a Strange Land for class, and had intensely identified with the protagonist, who had grown up on Mars and who found the humans around him incomprehensible. Well, he’d also liked the book because there had been some interesting sex stuff in it, but that was beside the point. 

“Here, I saved you a seat,” JR said, gesturing at the empty spot next to him.

“Thanks.” Jason shot him a smile as he sat, though his heart wasn’t really in it. 

JR and his friends smiled inanely at him, each greeting him as though he really was one of them, despite the fact that he was just a sophomore, and had only known them for a semester. 

“My folks are away this weekend – Brazil or something – so I’m having a party. You should come,” JR said. 

“Oh…maybe,” Jason hedged. “I gotta ask Bruce.”

“You call him Bruce? That’s so cool,” the boy across from him gushed. His name was Nick…possibly, probably.

Jason shrugged off the comment. They wouldn’t think it was so cool if they knew what that familiarity cost. Hell, they probably wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him if they knew what kind of sick, disgusting things he’d done.

“Well, hopefully you can make it,” JR said. “Everyone who’s anyone’s gonna be there.”

Jason nodded. “I’ll try,” he said, although he had no intention of even asking Bruce. There was a major weapons trade between two of the Gotham underworld’s heaviest hitters going down on Saturday night. Asking Bruce for the night off just to go to a stupid high school party was unthinkable. Despite it all, he was Robin, and that was a responsibility that he took seriously.

“Hey, you guys wanna go to Pizza Shack after school?” JR asked the table at large.

“Today’s the day I volunteer at the hospital.” said the boy seated across from JR. 

“Nick” shook his head. “I’ve got SAT class till nine.”

“Sorry, man, Lacrosse practice,” the boy next to Jason said. 

JR sighed. “What about you, Todd?”

“I’m volunteering at a soup kitchen in my old neighbourhood,” Jason lied smoothly.

“Wow, that’s intense,” lacrosse boy said with a note of awe in his voice. “Awesome idea, though. You write your college essay on that, and it’ll blow ‘em away.”

“Seriously,” hospital volunteer kid agreed. “I don’t know why you bother, though. You could probably have no extracurriculars and a 1200 on your SAT and still get into Harvard.”

“And if your story wasn’t enough to get you in, I’m sure a huge-ass endowment wouldn’t hurt,” JR said with a snort.

“Man, you’re lucky,” “Nick” said wistfully. “SAT class sucks.”

“Could be worse. You ever clean a bedpan? That shit is nasty - literally,” hospital volunteer kid said. 

Jason nodded along with the conversation, although the thought of rich kids volunteering to clean bedpans on purpose was completely baffling to him. Up until this year, he hadn’t even been sure he would graduate high school. It never occurred to him to actively take extra classes and get involved in extracurricular activities to better his chances of getting into college, let alone an Ivy League school. 

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to college, though he had to admit that he was tempted. The kids at school talked about it like it was going to be the greatest thing that ever happened to them, and they spent enormous amounts of their time and energy trying to get into the various schools.

“What schools are you thinking of applying to anyway, Todd?” JR asked.

“Um…Gotham U,” Jason said, picking the only university he could even envision himself attending. He knew that Dick had done a stint there, and if Dick had done it, he wanted to do it too. 

“Well sure, everyone does that as their safety, but what are you really going for?” “Nick” asked.

“Well, Harvard too, obviously,” Jason lied.

“Hah, I knew it!” hospital volunteer said. “You better start studying for your SATs now then. Unless you really are going for the huge endowment option!”

The rest of the kids snickered at this. Suddenly, Jason wanted nothing more than to go back to his old school, where nobody gave a shit about how high you could score on some stupid state test. Who was he kidding anyway? Giving him a college education would be, as his dad used to say, as useless as tits on a bull. 

“I gotta go,” Jason said, standing abruptly. A few of the kids protested, but he didn’t really hear them. He just grabbed his lunch tray and headed for the exit as fast as he could.

It didn’t matter anyway. All he really wanted was to be Robin. As long as he could be Batman’s partner, the rest was just distraction.

***

“I told you to cover the back exit. What part of that didn’t you understand?” Batman growled as he exited the Batmobile.

Jason jumped out of the car and followed close at his heels. “I know, but I thought-”

“No you didn’t!” Batman snarled, rounding on him. Jason jumped back in alarm. The side mirror of the Batmobile caught him in the small of the back, but he only winced slightly. Batman crowded him against the car, looming over him, surrounding him on all sides. “You didn’t think. You _never_ think, Jason! How can I trust you in the field if you can’t even follow simple instructions?”

Jason flinched under his burning gaze. “You’re right; I’m sorry, B,” he said quickly. “I’ll do better next time, I swear.”

Batman glared at him for an interminable moment. Jason could feel his rage and disappointment like an actual flame licking against his skin. Then suddenly Batman turned and stalked away from him. “Just go to bed,” he grunted over his shoulder.

Jason blinked anxiously at his retreating back. He pushed off from the Batmobile but after a couple of steps he hesitated, hovering awkwardly in the middle of the cave. Were they really not going to fuck? They’d done it every night since the night he put on the costume for the first time. Was Bruce really that mad at him? 

Suddenly, the cold reality of his very tenuous position in the Wayne household trickled down the back of his neck like melting snow. What if Batman decided he was a crappy Robin, and not worth the effort to train? What would happen to him then? Bruce could chuck him back into the street in the blink of an eye, without warning. Here today, gone tomorrow, and no one would even notice. Well, maybe Alfred might miss him for a week or two, and his classmates might wonder where he’d gone, but everyone would eventually forget about him, and then everything would return to normal, like he’d never even existed. 

A cold sweat broke out across his skin, his chest constricting so tight that it hurt to breathe. There had to be something he could do, some way to hang on to Bruce, because he was never going back, not if he could help it. Then it struck him - of course there was a way. If there was one thing his time on the streets had taught him, it was that there’s always a way, if you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.

“Bruce, wait,” Jason said. Batman paused, though he didn’t turn around. Jason circled around to face him. He brutally silenced the screaming in his own head and slowly raised his hand to trace his fingers over the bat symbol on Batman’s impossibly broad chest. 

“Let me make it up to you,” he said as he sank to his knees. “Please?” He gazed up into Batman’s stern expression, trying to glean anything he could from the meagre bits of face that he could see. 

Then Bruce was undoing his suit with deft, efficient movements, and Jason exhaled as an overwhelming sense of relief washed over him. But when Bruce finally sprang free of the suit’s constraints, Jason’s breath hitched in his throat. He’d never really looked too closely at it, but now he realised that Bruce was huge, bigger than any of the twenty-dollar back alley blowjobs he’d ever given. Well, that probably explained all the pain and everything. Why hadn’t he just offered to give Bruce blowjobs before? Maybe it would have saved him some pain. Granted, Bruce wasn’t going to be satisfied with just blowjobs forever, but Jason could time it so that it gave him a chance to recover, particularly on nights when he was extra sore. He wanted to kick himself - the idea was so brilliant that he wasn’t sure why he’d never thought of it before. 

He looked up to find Batman staring down at him, his expression inscrutable behind those blank, white out lenses. Suddenly, it hit him – he was totally going to give Batman a blowjob, how fucked up was that? Then he pushed down any feelings he had on the matter with the ease of practice and just dove in. 

Batman tasted of sweat and metal, and the scent of Kevlar was heavy on his skin. He was hot and unbelievably hard, and he filled Jason’s mouth till his jaws ached. Jason worked him with lips and tongue and just the ever so slight graze of teeth. He wasn’t proud of it exactly, but he was good at this, or so he’d been told. Those had been all business though, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. This was different – this was Batman – Bruce - and he wanted it to be better than good, better than anything ever and definitely better than whatever that sheltered little mama’s boy could do, because maybe Jason wasn’t as good as Dick in the Robin department, but he could give a blowjob like nobody’s business.

Batman threw his head back as a soft, stuttering gasp escaped him. 

Jason closed his eyes, the sound sending shivers down his spine. He licked up the length of Bruce’s cock and swirled his tongue over the sensitive head, wringing another quiet hiss from Batman. He reached down into his short shorts and palmed himself roughly. It surprised him how much he was getting off on this, because he’d never been particularly turned on by any of his sexual encounters. Maybe it was because he was in control now, turning Batman into a weak-kneed mess. Maybe it was because Batman was actually looking at him, or at least he thought he was. Whatever it was, it was fucking hot. 

“Yes,” Batman grunted. He shifted his stance, and suddenly his fingers were carding through Jason’s hair. 

Jason leaned into his touch, and the sheer _intimacy_ of it – he came quite abruptly with a muffled cry, all over his hand and the inside of his shorts. 

Batman growled inarticulately at the sound as he began pumping his hips, fucking into Jason’s mouth with the same sort of single-minded purpose that he did just about everything. Jason gripped his hips and did his best to help, though that mostly involved hanging on and trying not to gag. Then suddenly Batman was coming, his whole body shuddering with the force of it. 

“Dick!” Batman forced out between clenched teeth.

Jason was swallowing as fast as he could as the viscous bitter-salty fluid filled his mouth but he choked when he heard that. He pushed away from Batman and coughed up the aspirated come from his lungs onto the Batcave floor. Seriously, still?

He swallowed down the bitterness on his tongue but the bitterness raging in his soul was another story altogether. It hurt at the best of times, but tonight it was like a fucking knife to the chest. He looked up but Batman was already striding away from him, his cape swirling behind him like a cloud of smoke.

“Better get some sleep. You’ve got school tomorrow,” Batman said in a distracted sort of way, as though he was already thinking about something, or more likely some _one_ else. 

And then he was gone, and Jason wasn’t hugging his bruised knees on the Batcave floor like a little kid, he really fucking wasn’t.

***

Jason kicked his legs out over the 28-story drop and grinned around his mouthful of burger. He and Nightwing had busted up a drug deal tonight, and it had been a blast. Bruce had left the city a few days ago on some sort of Wayne Enterprises-related business trip. As soon as he had gone, Jason had felt an indefinable tension drain from him, leaving him feeling almost relaxed for the first time in a long time. 

Patrolling solo the last couple nights had been downright liberating, but tonight, tonight had been something else. For one thing, Dick was great company. He was a pretty fun guy, once Jason had gotten past how intimidating he was, and he had a sense of humour, which was something Batman sorely lacked. With Dick, the pressure to perform was less (though he still felt the need to prove himself) and there was none of that anticipation-dread that he got towards the end of every patrol. 

Now they were just hanging out, eating burgers and watching the city go by beneath their feet. He wished it could be like this always, like maybe he could be Nightwing’s sidekick instead, but…no. He shook his head, ruthlessly terminating that fantasy before it’d even left the gate. Dick might tolerate him ok, but that didn’t mean he actually liked him, or wanted him around permanently.

“So how’s school?” Dick asked idly.

“It’s ok,” Jason said.

“It can be hard to juggle schoolwork and nightly patrols. How are your grades?” Dick asked.

“Geez, what’re you, my mom?” Jason muttered. After a moment though, he said, “Alfred’s not complaining, so I guess I’m doing ok.”

Dick nodded. “What about your social life? It’s hard to resist the temptation to spend every moment you can in the cave, but it’s important to make time for friends, too.”

Jason shrugged. “I know some guys. We hang out sometimes, I guess, if I haven’t got anything else on.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all under control,” Dick said, ruffling Jason’s hair affectionately with a gloved hand. “Not like me, I was a hot mess. It took me ages to find the right balance. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I ever found it.”

Jason didn’t believe that for a second. “Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “I’m sure you did ok. Hell, I hear you’re dating some big supermodel now. I saw a picture of her in the papers – she’s smoking hot!”

Dick chuckled. “Yeah, Kory’s great.”

“Was it hard…you know, getting a girl, after…this?” Jason asked hesitantly. He hadn’t meant to bring it up like this – hadn’t meant to bring it up at all, ever - but he suddenly really wanted to know. If Dick could have a girlfriend and live a normal (for them) life after all this, then it seemed plausible that Jason could, too.

“Well, she’s a Teen Titan too, so it’s not like she wouldn’t understand growing up as Robin,” Dick said. “I imagine that it’d be harder if she was a civilian.”

Jason frowned. That hadn’t really answered his question. He tried a different tack. “What was it like the first time? Was it…good?”

“With Kory? Believe me, it was more than good, it was out of this world,” Dick said with a lascivious wink.

“What…what about your first time?” Jason asked. He was surprised at his own audacity, but Dick was here, talking to him, and treating him like an adult; he just couldn’t pass up the chance to finally get answers to the questions that had been eating him alive for months now. 

Dick huffed out a soft laugh. “That would be Batgirl. She assures me it was good, but between you and me, I think I made a real mess of it. Couldn’t have been that bad though, I guess, since she didn’t kick me out of bed after!”

Jason’s hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. “No, I mean…your _first_ time,” he said softly.

Dick frowned down at him for a moment before he snorted loudly. “What, like with my hand? It was pretty good, Jay.” He laughed and clapped Jason on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a girl some day – never underestimate the appeal of a man in uniform.”

Jason stared at Dick with a growing sense of horror as the words sank in. A sharp pain stabbed through his chest and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He thought he might be dying, but dimly in the back of his mind, something said _panic attack_. He surged to his feet and staggered away from Nightwing.

“I…I have to go,” he blurted, and then he ran, as far and fast as his feet would take him.

***

About a mile of empty streets and dingy alleys later, Jason collapsed behind a dumpster in a deserted alley between two derelict buildings. His vision was so blurred he could barely see where he was going so he ripped the domino off his face with a hard tug. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees as his breath exploded from him in ragged gasps.

He couldn’t believe how fucking stupid he was. Of course Batman hadn’t touched Dick, because Dick wasn’t into guys, and Bruce was a good guy, not some creeper. This was Jason’s fault - he’d brought this on himself, for being gay, or being a whore, or whatever the fuck was wrong with him. After all, he now initiated their post-patrol sex as often as not. He must have done something to seduce Batman that first time…but what? It was all so confusing. He didn’t think he’d wanted Bruce that way, but he couldn’t deny that he found him exciting and compelling in a way that he’d never found anyone, guy or girl. 

Was he attracted to Bruce? 

Did he want to have sex with him? 

Did he actually like having sex with him? 

Did he like having sex with guys? 

Did he even like sex?? 

He had no fucking idea how to answer any of these questions, and that just wasn’t normal, because people should at least know what they’re attracted to, right? Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? He crushed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the flood of tears, but no amount of pressure would make them stop. The worst part was that at the end of the day, all his shameless whoring hadn’t even gotten him anywhere with Bruce. Bruce loved Dick, wanted him, fantasised about him, and Jason was still nothing more than a convenient hole.

Ersatz – an inferior substitute.

He’d learned that SAT word in his fancy new school and yeah, didn’t that just sum it up? 

Rage and frustration welled up in him, but he was too confused to focus it on any one target. There didn’t seem to be anyone to blame except himself and his own crappy decisions. But honestly, what was he so surprised for? He’d always known what he was – an inconvenience, except for those rare times when he was just convenient. 

“Grow up, Todd,” he growled under his breath. 

Why was he crying in an alley like a three-year-old, and in his Robin suit no less? What if someone saw him? He lowered his hands from his face and sniffled as his tears began to dry. With an effort of will, he pulled himself together and stood up. He brushed at the grime clinging to his cape, and stuck the mask back onto his face with a bit of extra spirit gum from his utility belt.

So he was sleeping with Batman, and Bruce was never going to love him the way he loved Dick – so what? He still got everything else that came with the deal, and he was still Bruce’s ward and Batman’s partner. Wasn’t that enough? He should be grateful, because really, this was already way more than a kid like him could ever hope to have, and Jason was nothing if not a realist.


	2. Illusion

Bruce watched critically as the boy worked on his kicks, striking repeatedly at the wooden dummy. It was all wrong - the movement, the flow. Well, admittedly not _wrong_ , technically speaking, just…not right. Attempts had been made to copy Dick’s style, it was obvious, but that almost made it worse. It was like looking at a poor reproduction of a priceless painting – not just distasteful, but disrespectful as well. Sometimes when Bruce looked at the boy, he was overcome by such intense resentment. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, that was true, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be the whipping boy for Dick’s transgressions, but what could Bruce do? Dick wouldn’t take his calls, wouldn’t even respond to his requests to come home (covertly sent through Alfred). Dick had abandoned him - shattered him - and left him to pick up the pieces alone, so what choice did Bruce have but to seek solace the only way he could? 

Brooding turned to restlessness as frustration bloomed in his chest. He got up to circle the boy as he worked. The strikes were swift and accurate, as expected, but where once they had been elegant, now they were merely…efficient. The boy kicked at the highest target, falling perhaps four inches short.

“Again,” Bruce said.

The boy dutifully aimed another kick at the target, but again he fell short.

Bruce shook his head. “Have you been stretching?”

“Every day,” the boy said earnestly. His youthful face was pink with exertion, his taut, nubile body glistening with sweat.

Bruce felt himself stirring in his pants. “Then you must not be pushing yourself hard enough. I’ve told you before, you have to breathe through the pain. Lie down, I’ll show you.”

The boy scowled at the criticism, anger flashing in his eyes – just the wrong shade of blue – but he acquiesced to the demand without protest. 

When he had positioned the boy on his back, Bruce grabbed his ankle and lifted his leg. With one hand holding his other leg down, Bruce pressed the boy’s leg down into a split with his body weight. At first it was easy, but when Bruce was almost nose to nose with the boy, he finally felt the first twinges of resistance, a reflexive tightening of the muscles beneath his hands. 

“Breathe,” Bruce commanded.

The boy inhaled and exhaled steadily as Bruce slowly pressed his leg down towards the floor. The boy grimaced, his face scrunching in pain when Bruce pushed him past his limit. Another inch or two, and Bruce eased him into a full split.

“Hold it!” Bruce growled. Minutes went by. The only sound in the room was the boy’s ragged breaths as he struggled through the burn. Eventually, Bruce felt the boy’s muscles relax, and when he let go, the boy held the position of his own accord. “You see? The pain wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No…” the boy said after a moment.

“The fear of pain is often worse than the pain itself. Once you internalise that, you can push past any amount of pain to achieve your goals. This is an important lesson. It could save your life some day.”

The boy nodded. “I’ll remember.”

Such eagerness to please. Bruce closed his eyes and smiled faintly at the memory of another time, when things were better, _brighter_ somehow. He licked his lips as desire pooled in his gut, an insistent _want_ that demanded satisfaction. He’d been denied for so long... 

“Turn over.”

Once he felt the boy shift and resettle beneath him, he leaned down to nuzzle at the back of his neck. He inhaled the scent of fresh clean sweat, and that potent mix of body odour and testosterone that always brought to mind a lithe, eager young body, flawless golden skin sliding over taut muscle.

“Dick,” he breathed. 

Dick whimpered softly beneath him, and the sound sent tingles racing down his spine.

He hiked Dick’s hips up and pulled down his gym shorts. “So beautiful,” he murmured before he licked a wet stripe from the base of Dick’s sweet little balls to the pucker of his hole.

Dick shivered as a low, mewling sound escaped him. Bruce lapped at his hole, delighting in the feel of the boy writhing beneath his hands and the delicious little sounds he was wringing from him. Dick was so sensitive, and so responsive to his touch. It was a miracle that anyone could be so sensual without even trying. He licked his fingers and inserted one slowly into that tight, clenching heat.

Dick moaned into the mat, the muscles in his butt and thighs flexing and tensing as his little hole swallowed Bruce’s finger easily.

Bruce chuckled softly. “Greedy boy,” he teased. He added another finger, working in and out, delighting in the stretch and contraction of that ring of muscle around his fingers.

Finally, when he couldn’t take it any longer, he pulled his fingers out. 

Dick sighed at the loss. 

“Patience,” Bruce murmured. He licked his palm and stroked his aching erection. Then he gripped Dick’s hips and lined him up. Slowly, tenderly, he pushed in.

“Aaah!” Dick cried, his little hands scrabbling against the mat, like the flutter of moths tapping against a streetlamp.

“Relax,” Bruce coached. Slowly, incrementally, he felt Dick’s muscles relax their iron grip around his cock. “That’s it, breathe. You can take it,” he said as he eased in. When he’d settled in all the way, his balls pressing against that tight ass, he began to thrust lazily in and out.

Dick whined softly, desperate and needy in the back of his throat as he began shifting back to meet Bruce with every thrust.

Bruce bent low over his back and wrapped his hand around Dick’s slender cock. Dick thrust against him enthusiastically. 

“My little robin,” he panted into Dick’s ear. 

Dick let out a low moan, and it was so good, so perfect, so right. 

“Ah, Dick!” Bruce shouted as he came, his body shuddering through an intense orgasm.

Bruce pulled out of the still trembling body beneath his. For a moment, he blinked down at the boy in confusion, and then he quickly got to his feet. Without a word, he hurried out of the cave, before the illusion could be dispelled, and while he could still cling to the sensation of Dick’s body clenching tight around him like a passionate embrace.


	3. Surrender

Dick fled the Titans control room as the tears began to fall in earnest.

“Dick!” Kory yelled after him, but he didn’t stop.

He ran into one of the spare bedrooms. “Leave me alone!” he shouted as he tried to close the door on her. 

She wouldn’t take no for an answer though, and shoved her way into the room regardless. She shut the door behind her. “I know what it means to you that Robin died, but it wasn’t your fault, honey.”

“It _is_ my fault!” Dick snarled through the tears. “I gave him my uniform! I knew what would happen, what that would mean, but I just…I didn’t want to believe it. And then I told him…I lied to him! I knew, I saw the look on his face and I knew, Kory, and I did _nothing_! I just let him go because I couldn’t, not with anyone but especially not with him. I let him think he was alone, that it was his fault, and now he’s gone, and I’ll never get to tell him that it wasn’t!”

“Dick, honey, you aren’t making any sense. Please, tell me what this is about,” Kory said as she pulled him into a fierce hug. He fought her at first, but she persisted, and eventually he gave in and let her hold him. 

“I can’t,“ Dick mumbled into her shoulder.

Kory pulled back and forced him to meet her gaze. “You can tell me anything, always.” 

Dick looked away, because the _compassion_ in her eyes was too much, and much more than anything he deserved. He kept replaying the last conversation he’d had with Jason in his mind, pausing on that devastated look on Jason’s face, like his whole world had just been shattered beyond recognition. 

Dick had heard bits and pieces about Jason in the months following their last meeting, and all accounts had pointed to a steady downward spiral. He had suspected then that their conversation might have had something to do with it, but still he’d kept silent. Guilt ate at him. He’d had months to correct his mistake, but something else had always been more urgent. There had never been a good time. That was a lie though; even he knew that. The truth was, he’d run as far and fast from Bruce as he could when he’d left for the last time, and he hadn’t wanted to look back. As much as he’d cared for Jason, he just…he couldn’t face what Bruce had done to him…to them.

Despite her assertions, there was no way that Kory would understand. She never understood his compulsion to shield his negative emotions from the public eye, to keep them buried so deep that no one would ever even know they existed. How on Earth would she ever understand what he did to Jason? It had been a despicable, gutless thing to do, and even if she somehow possessed the superhuman understanding it would take to forgive him for his cowardice, he still didn’t want her sympathy. Maybe it was vain and selfish, but he just couldn’t stand to see the pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Kory, I just can’t.” He shook his head. “I have to talk to Bruce. I have to know what happened to Jason.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kory volunteered immediately. 

“No,” Dick said, disentangling himself from her arms. “This is something I have to do alone.”

***

Dick drove straight into the Batcave because he didn’t think he could face Alfred right at that moment. If he saw his other surrogate parent, he thought he might just break, and like Humpty Dumpty, no one would ever be able to put him back together again. 

As he suspected he would, he found Bruce hunched over the computer console. He was half dressed in the suit, the cowl dangling from his shoulders. 

Bruce pushed his chair back and stalked towards him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, as though Dick had no right to be there, as though he hadn’t lived there half his life.

“I heard, about Jason,” Dick said. “When were you going to tell me?” He hadn’t meant to spit that out like an accusation, but talking to Bruce…wasn’t easy, even at the best of times. 

Bruce snorted. “Even if your Titans information network was that ineffectual, I never revoked your access to the cave computer. You could have found that information out any number of ways.”

“Robin dies and you expect me to read it in a Batcave file?“ Dick asked incredulously.

“Would you have answered the phone if I’d called?” Bruce countered.

Dick looked away guiltily. “Well I’m here now,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

“Turned out he suffered from the same affliction as you – chronic inability to follow even the most basic instructions,” Bruce said. “I told him to stay put, and he heard, ‘take on the Joker by yourself’. Sound familiar?”

Dick’s heart sank. It had to be the Joker, didn’t it? It couldn’t be something humane, like Two-Face gunning him down in the street. No, Jason had to die screaming, or laughing, or whatever horrible thing that sick bastard had dreamed up. Dick’s guts twisted so violently that he felt sick.

“You want to hear the details? I assume you came to hear what you couldn’t read in any file in existence,” Bruce said, his tone like a bag of broken glass – dissonant and full of sharp edges.

Dick almost shook his head, but he made himself nod instead. He owed it to Jason to hear every detail, no matter how gruesome, and he knew it would be, because Bruce had that cruel glint in his eye that was all too familiar.

“From what I could tell, he’d been tortured, beaten hard enough to crack his skull and break half a dozen bones. Lack of defensive wounds indicated he was bound at the time, helpless against the onslaught.” Bruce’s eyes were hard and implacable, boring into Dick as he recounted the horrors in a soft, inflectionless monotone. 

Dick took a step back, but Bruce followed, backing him up against the cold, damp wall of the cave. Even through his layers of clothing, Dick could feel the cold seeping from the cave wall into his bones.

“Then the building exploded. Flash burns covered half his body. In some places, the suit had melted into his skin; in others, there was no skin left at all. Track marks in the dirt around the body indicated he’d survived the blast, that he’d actually crawled a short distance towards his mother before he finally bled out. I didn’t get there in time to see that, though. By the time I arrived, there was nothing left to do but dig his mangled corpse from the rubble.” Bruce’s composure, once steady, had gradually degraded into a raw, shredded mess. His face was a maelstrom of devastation, guilt, and pain the likes of which Dick had never seen. “He didn’t deserve that, to die that way. For all his faults, he wasn’t a bad boy; he just…wasn’t you.”

Dick covered his mouth with a shaking hand as tears tracked unnoticed down his face. “I’m so sorry, Bruce. This…this never would have happened if I hadn’t...” he trailed off, because even now he couldn’t admit out loud how he’d betrayed the only brother he’d ever had.

Bruce’s expression hardened. “You’re right,” he growled. “You never should have left.”

Dick gasped. He hadn’t even thought of that, but instantly, he saw that it was the truth. If he hadn’t left, then none of this would have happened. Jason wouldn’t have been hurt, or killed. He would be fine now, just an ordinary kid, living his life. The weight of the realisation was staggering, and it felt like it was crushing the air from his lungs. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” he said in a desperate plea, though he had no idea what he was begging for. Absolution, perhaps, but Bruce no more had the power to grant him that than he had the power to bring Jason back to life. “Why did you have to replace me?” 

“What choice did you leave me?” Bruce demanded. “You left! Was I supposed to spend the rest of my life pining after you?” 

“Of course not!” Dick cried. “Bruce, I…I never meant to hurt you. I love you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, you know that. I just…I wanted something….normal. Can’t you understand that?”

Bruce closed his eyes, his forehead knitting as he swallowed. “Is that what she gave you, normality?”

“No,” Dick admitted softly. _Babs gave me strength_ , he didn’t say, _the strength to leave you._

Bruce tentatively rested his hand on the back of Dick’s neck. “You know I never stopped thinking about you. Even when he was here.” He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over Dick’s skin. 

Dick closed his eyes and swallowed down a wave of nausea. 

Taking his silence for approval, Bruce’s hand trailed down Dick’s chest to fondle him through his jeans as he started to mouth at his neck.

“Bruce,” Dick said. He’d meant that to sound like a warning, but it had come out more like a desperate whimper. “Please,” he said, pushing ineffectually at Bruce’s chest.

“Dick,” Bruce murmured against his skin. He unbuckled Dick’s belt and unzipped his pants, so that they slid to the floor with barely a whisper. 

“Bruce, stop,” Dick tried again, though he knew from past experience that it was unlikely to do much good.

Bruce’s pants quickly followed his, and then Bruce was grinding against him, hot and hard. “My little robin,” he whispered in Dick’s ear as his hands trailed over Dick’s skin, so _intimately_ , as though he had every right to, even after all this time. 

Dick shuddered. His brain screamed at him to do something, anything, but he felt frozen, his limbs stiff and heavy like in one of his recurring nightmares where Bruce rapes Jason while Dick watches in impotent horror, too petrified to move. 

Bruce’s burning gaze locked with his. “I want you to know I’ve been faithful.”

Dick sucked in a sharp breath. Could it be that he’d had it all wrong? “Jason-”

“Doesn’t count,” Bruce interrupted. “You were so alike, physically. When I closed my eyes, it was you I saw.”

Dick bit back a sob of despair. He wasn’t sure what was worse, hearing absolute confirmation that Bruce had been abusing Jason, or knowing that he’d pretended Jason was Dick while he’d done it.

“I know,” Bruce soothed as he wiped the tears from Dick’s face with his thumb. “But this can be a fresh start for us, a new beginning. You and me, just like it used to be.”

Dick shook his head. “Bruce…”

“Dick,” Bruce grunted, grinding against Dick with renewed fervour, as though Dick’s admittedly weak protest had been just the encouragement he’d been longing to hear. After just a few moments, he came with a soft moan.

Dick shivered miserably against him. It was clear that Bruce was never going to let him go, and in his absence, Bruce would continue to prey on innocent boys as surrogates for his twisted obsession with him. He knew what he had to do; it was just…it was like sticking your hand voluntarily into a meat grinder. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Just like it used to be,” he whispered, and it sounded like nothing short of a death knell.


	4. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the very long delay in getting the next chapter out. I'm going to try my best to get this finished over the winter holidays this year. Fingers crossed! Thanks for sticking with me and my incredibly unreliable ass.

Tim sat in silence as he watched his captor pace back and forth in front of him like a restless animal. He’d secretly pressed his emergency beacon some time ago. All he had to do now was keep this guy talking long enough for Dick to get to him. At least, he felt relatively certain it would be Dick, given that Bruce was out of town and Dick was probably no more than 20 minutes away by bike.

“So you’re the replacement,” the man said as he paced.

“The replacement for what?” Tim asked mildly.

“For me, of course,” the man said. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognise me. What, there aren’t any pictures of me up in the old manor? Come on, _Robin_ , I’m not even wearing a mask!”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat. There were no photos in the manor of anyone other than Bruce’s parents, but that wasn’t to say he’d never seen Jason Todd before. He’d seen him in person, in fact. Well, through a viewfinder, but close enough. No wonder the man had looked familiar, but just because he looked like Jason didn’t mean he was Jason. “If you are who you're insinuating you are, then you sure are lively for a corpse,” he said evenly.

“Ain’t I though?” The man shot him a cheeky grin. 

“Let’s say I believe you,” Tim said. It was unlikely, but these days, anything was possible. “What are we doing here? What’s this about?”

Jason grabbed a chair and straddled it, resting his forearms on the curved wooden back. “I thought you and I could have a little chat. You know, get to know each other. We are brothers, in a sense.”

“We’re not brothers,” Tim snapped.

Jason cocked his head at him. “Ouch. All right, have it your way. I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Tim said, struggling meaningfully against the veritable mile of rope wrapped around him.

“That was just so you’d listen,” Jason said. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react, and I always come prepared.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Well, you’ve got my attention. I’m listening, so talk.”

Jason hesitated, eyeing him up and down as though he wasn’t sure how to begin. Tim was puzzled, but then again, kidnappers who pretended to be dead ex-Robins tended to be rather unpredictable.

“How’s the Robin-ing?” Jason finally asked.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell you how much I hate indiscriminate verbing,” he muttered. “But to answer your question, it’s fine. I obviously enjoy it, or I wouldn’t do it. Why, didn’t you like it?”

Jason grinned, a virtually mirthless gesture that reminded Tim entirely too much of a shark’s grimace, soulless and deadly. Instead of answering the question, he asked another. “How about school? You get good grades?”

Tim squinted up at his captor in a universal sign for ‘are you kidding me with this?’. “I get the best grades,” he said indignantly.

“I’ll just bet you do,” Jason said with a snort. “You got a girlfriend?”

Tim frowned. What kind of interrogation was this? “You know, it’d be a lot quicker if you’d just tell me what you want.”

“What I want, little man, is to have a conversation with you,” Jason said, his voice dropping into a low, menacing growl. “Now answer the question.” 

Tim silently upgraded “Jason” into the Arkham Asylum category. “I do, but if you lay a hand on her I swear-”

“Relax, I’m not interested in your little jailbait girlfriend,” Jason said with a dismissive wave, his tone lightening once again. “Tell me, how’s Bruce doing?”

Tim’s brain kicked into high gear. If the imposter knew Batman’s identity, then he wasn’t Clayface, or some run of the mill psycho. “Who?”

“Let’s not play games,” Jason said. “We both know that Bruce Wayne is Batman. Now answer the question.”

“Batman is fine,” Tim said, taking care not to substantiate any of the man’s statements.

“You two…getting along?” Jason asked.

“We get along fine,” Tim said. 

Jason fixed him with a hard look. “Really, Tim? I can call you Tim, can’t I? You can tell me, you know. I know Dickie doesn’t get it, so I can see why you’d be hesitant to reveal your hard-kept secrets to me. But believe me, if anyone in this world can understand what you’re going through, it’s me.”

Tim shook his head. This guy was even more dangerous than he’d anticipated. He knew all of their secret identities and he was one sandwich short of a panini stand – not a good combination. “Look, I’m trying to play along here, but I have to admit I’ve lost the plot. What the heck are you talking about?” he said.

Jason huffed out a short laugh. “All right, Timmy, if that’s the way you want to play it.“ He checked his watch. “I’ll be seeing you again real soon, and next time, we’ll have a proper catch up. Till then, you think about what I said.” And with that, he leapt out the open window.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that was...interesting. 

A few minutes later, Dick dove in through the window and rolled into a defensive crouch. “Robin!”

“It’s ok, he’s gone,” Tim said wearily. “Just untie me, please.”

Dick started to work on the ropes. “What happened?”

“I was attacked just outside Gotham First National,” Tim said. “He hit me with some kind of gas explosive. It happened so fast. Before I could reach my breather, I was out. When I woke up, I was here.”

“Do you know who it was?” Dick asked.

“Someone pretending to be Jason Todd,” Tim said.

Dick gave him a funny look. “Pretending?”

Tim stilled. “Am I missing something? Jason is dead, isn’t he?”

Dick grimaced. “Oh right, I forgot you’ve been out of town. Jason’s back – probably some kind of Lazarus Pit thing, though no one’s really sure. He gave Batman a sample of his blood, and it checks out. It’s definitely him. I haven’t seen him myself, but I hear he’s been targeting sidekicks. I’m surprised Batman didn’t warn you about it.”

Tim shrugged. “My dad and I just got back from Japan this morning. Batman’ll be back in a couple of days - he probably thought he could brief me then. What do you mean by targeting sidekicks?”

“He attacked Speedy last week,” Dick said as he cut the last of the ropes off Tim. “According to Batman, he was making a point.”

Tim rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his wrists. “What point was that?” 

“He didn’t elaborate. What did Jason say to you?”

“Not a whole lot, to be honest. He asked me some very personal questions about being Robin, my grades, and whether or not I had a girlfriend. He asked about Batman and my relationship with him, and then he threatened me – or at least, it sounded like a threat.”

Dick paled as a stricken expression crossed his face. 

“Dick? Are you all right? What’s wrong?” Tim asked with a worried frown.

Dick shook his head, and in a blink his expression was back to one of mild concern. “What do you mean by threatened?” he asked.

“He said he’d be seeing me again real soon,” Tim recounted.

Dick looked away. After a long, pensive moment, he said, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I don’t think he’s trying to hurt you, but just to be on the safe side, you should probably stay at my place for the next few days.”

Tim’s eye twitched. “But your apartment is so…” _filthy_ he thought, “small,” he said. “It’d be so cramped; I don’t want to put you out.”

“Your safety is more important than my comfort, Tim,” Dick said, giving his shoulder a warm squeeze.

Tim felt guilt worm its way through his stomach for his uncharitable thoughts about Dick’s abode. “But you said yourself he wasn’t out to hurt me. If all he wants to do is talk, I’m ok with that.”

“I don’t _think_ he wants to hurt you, but I don’t know that for a fact. Lazarus pits have their side effects, and I’m not sure he came back all there, if you know what I mean. I think I understand his intentions, but in his state of mind, he might think that the only way to protect you would be to kill you.“

“Protect me from what?” Tim asked.

Dick stared at him for a moment before he shrugged. “Who knows?” 

The gesture struck Tim as a little too casual, but he merely tucked the inconsistency away for later examination. 

“The point is,” Dick continued, “we don’t know what his plans are, and until we do, I’d feel a lot better if I could keep an eye on you, at least until Batman returns.”

Tim swallowed down the protests dancing on the tip of his tongue. As demeaning as it was for Dick to think he needed babysitting like some helpless victim, he knew it was with the best of intentions. Everything Dick did was always with the best of intentions, which is what made arguing with him so impossible. 

Tim sighed. “I’ll meet you back at yours after patrol.”


	5. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still sticking with my wips, you deserve some kind of medal for patience and long suffering. ^^; Sorry for being so erratic with the posting. Things are ostensibly getting better IRL now though so I'm really hoping that I can get back to spending more time doing fun stuff and less time having stress induced meltdowns.

“You’re pacing again,” Tim said. 

Dick stopped in his tracks and shot Tim a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a bit keyed up. Maybe I should go for a run.”

Tim sighed and closed his laptop with a sharp snap. “You don’t have to worry about me, Dick; I can take care of myself. Besides, I’ve been emailing Mia. She says he had every opportunity to kill her, but he didn’t. Whatever his game is, I don’t think he’s out to hurt me - not seriously, anyway.”

Dick turned to gaze out the window, as much to maintain surveillance as to hide his expression from Tim. He knew he wasn’t a very good liar, not when it came to the people he cared about anyway, and Tim’s observation skills rivaled Bruce’s. The last thing he needed was for Tim to discover his true motive for keeping him there. 

Because the truth was, he wasn’t worried about Tim at all. He knew exactly what Jason’s game was, and he was using Tim as bait to draw him out. Ever since Jason had returned, Dick had been turning Gotham upside down looking for him, but Jason had been trained by the best, and if he didn’t want to be found, he wasn’t going to be. Dick just…he needed to talk to Jason, to tell him all the things he never had the courage to say back then. Fate had given him a second chance, and he wasn’t going to blow it, no matter how hard it was going to be, or how much Jason was going to hate him. Frankly, if anyone deserved to bear the brunt of Red Hood’s wrath, he did. Maybe then Jason would stop attacking innocent people. Hell, killing Dick might even bring him a kind of peace. Dick could only hope.

“Dick?”

Dick suddenly realised that Tim had been speaking this whole time. “Sorry, what?”

Tim frowned. “Are you sure there isn’t something else I should know about-”

“Quiet,” Dick ordered as he caught a furtive movement at ground level, in the shadows just beyond the reach of the sickly yellow street lamp. Tim stood up but Dick motioned him down. “Get down, and stay away from the windows.”

Tim crouched down on the floor and scrambled towards him. “What do you see?”

“I’m not sure yet. There’s movement at street level, two o’clock. Do you see it?”

Tim poked his head up just enough to look out the window. “I think I-”

A loud crash made them both whirl around in surprise. It took just a fraction of a second for Dick to realise that Jason had been distracting them with a decoy while he made his dramatic entrance. He rolled just as Jason opened fire on them, bullets tearing into the drywall just millimetres away from his head. At this distance and in this confined space, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. The fact that Jason hadn’t riddled him with bullets meant he wasn’t actually aiming to hit him, but Dick wasn’t taking any chances. He rolled behind the armchair and glanced over to see Tim take cover behind the couch. The hail of bullets stopped abruptly and an eerie silence settled over the apartment

Dick peered up over the arm of the chair. “Jason, I-ah!” The side of his head exploded in pain. He reached up to cradle his bleeding ear where the bullet had grazed him.

“I’ve got nothin’ to say to you, circus boy,” Jason informed him coldly. “This is between me and Robin, and if you don’t mind, we’d like some privacy.” He waved his gun at Tim. “Come out here. Hands up, and don’t try anything stupid. I’d hate to shoot you, but I will if I have to.”

Dick shook his head at Tim, but Tim shrugged and raised his hands above his head.

“All right, I’m coming out,” Tim said.

“Tim, no-”

A bullet ricocheted off the wall behind Dick, coming dangerously close to embedding in his calf. “Shut. Up.” Jason gritted.

Dick growled in frustration as Tim began to rise from his crouch. Tim could never know the truth. It would destroy him. Dick had to get through to Jason before he told Tim everything, all of the shameful, horrible things that Dick had sacrificed everything to shield his little brother from. “He’s not hurting him, Jason!” he blurted.

Tim shot him a confused look, but Dick’s attention was focused solely on Jason’s reaction. Though he couldn’t see Jason’s expression through that absurd mask, the tension suddenly radiating from across the room was almost palpable.

After a moment, Jason asked blithely, “Whatever do you mean?” 

“Don’t toy with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Dick said. “He’s not hurting Tim. After what happened to you, I made sure of it.”

“How?” Jason demanded.

“I’ll tell you if you let Tim go,” Dick said.

“No, Dick-”

“Shut up!” Jason snapped, this time at Tim. “How do I know he won’t call for backup the second he gets out of earshot?”

“Bruce is in Peru for another thirty-six hours,” Dick said, ignoring Tim’s gasp of horror. “But I suspect that you already knew that. As for Oracle and the others, you have my word that Tim won’t contact them. Right, Tim?”

Tim frowned at him. “Are you sure about this, Dick?”

“I’m sure.” Dick gave him their “all clear” hand signal for good measure. “If Jason wanted to kill us, he would’ve done it already.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind once I’m gone,” Tim said.

“I’ll be fine, Tim. Please, just go. Jason and I need to talk.”

Tim’s gaze skipped between them. “I’ll go, but on one condition. I want your word that you won’t hurt Dick,” he said to Jason.

“My word?” Jason sneered. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a vicious psycho hellbent on revenge. What makes you think my word is worth anything?”

“Because I…” Tim bit his lip. “I know we haven’t met, but I…well, I know you. I mean, from before, and the boy I-”

“That boy is dead,” Jason interrupted. “You said as much yourself the last time we met.”

Tim met Jason’s eyes. “Maybe, but some things never change,” he said, channelling that special brand of Tim stubbornness that Dick had come to admire, though sometimes it drove him nuts. “I know you won’t kill him; I just want your word that you won’t _hurt_ him either.”

“I bet you read the fine print on everything, don’t you? Bruce must love you,” Jason muttered. “Fine, you have my word, whatever that’s worth to you.”

Tim nodded. “Thank you. It was nice meeting you, Jason. And…I don’t know what this is about exactly, but I appreciate your concern for me, however misplaced it might be.”

Jason snorted at him, as though he wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or annoyed, but Tim merely shot him a small smile before he took his leave. 

“What the hell is with that kid?”

“It would take too long to explain, and I doubt I would do him justice,” Dick said as he came out from behind the armchair. “Do you mind?” he said with a pointed look at the gun Jason still had trained on his chest.

Jason hesitated before he slowly lowered the gun. Dick noticed that he didn’t exactly put it away, but at least it wasn’t pointed at him anymore. He sat down in the armchair and gestured at the couch. Jason sat stiffly across from him with the gun conspicuously balanced on his knee, ready to fill him full of holes at a moment’s notice. After a moment, however, he reached behind his head and removed the red mask.

Bizarrely, Jason’s eyes were still shielded by a domino. He didn't offer an explanation for the second mask, and Dick decided it was probably best not to ask about it. He couldn’t resist the urge to stare though, to drink in the sight of his long lost little brother. Jason looked older, more chiseled, a handsome young man instead of the awkward teenager he’d been when he’d died. Dick wanted to close the scant gap between them and hug him, hold him, soothe away his pain. The trouble was, it wasn’t a scant gap; it was a chasm, deep and long, and filled with years of pain, resentment and betrayal. 

“How long have you known?” Jason asked, abruptly cutting off his train of thought. So much for easing into the conversation. 

Dick looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Jason may have changed, but he hadn’t – he was a coward then, and he was no less of one now. “Since you told me,” he admitted in a low voice.

Jason frowned. “When did I-”

“That night on the roof, when you asked me about Kory,” Dick said. “That’s when I realised.”

“How?” 

Dick opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He swallowed hard and tried again. “It…it wasn’t just you, Jay. I…he did it to me, too.” He covered his mouth, but it was too late. He’d said it, admitted it out loud, and there was no taking it back now. He tensed for Jason’s reaction. Whatever it was, he deserved it, and then some.

But Jason just sat there staring at him, his shocked expression betraying not anger, but hurt and confusion. “But you said…” He shook his head, as though he couldn’t quite believe it. “Why would you lie to me? I thought we were…” 

_Friends._ The word hung unspoken between them, like an accusation. 

“I wanted to tell you, I did, I just…couldn’t,” Dick said.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason swore. Dick flinched preemptively, but the explosion never came. Instead, Jason just reached up and ripped the domino from his face. 

Dick bit back a gasp at the look in his eyes – like his whole world had just crumbled and reorganised itself into something even uglier and darker than he could ever have imagined. It was the second time Dick had seen that look on his face, and the knowledge that both times, it had been his doing, was like a knife to the gut. Tears stung his own eyes, and before he knew it, they were streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry, Jay. I never-”

“You’re sorry?” Jason interrupted. He let out a laugh so hollow that it tore at Dick’s soul. “All this time, I thought it was me, that it was _my_ fault. Do you have any idea what that feels like?” 

Dick looked down at his hands clasped in his lap. “Yes,” he said softly. 

Jason blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the answer. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, I guess you would, wouldn’t you?”

Dick sighed. “For years, he had me convinced that there was something special about me that...brought it out in him. I can’t believe how naïve I was.” 

“Yeah, well. He had this way of…I don’t know…getting inside your head, making you think or do things that you wouldn’t normally. Hell, he had me so twisted up, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going,” Jason said.

“I know the feeling.” Dick raked a hand through his hair, which had grown lank and greasy with sweat. “I actually thought that once I was gone, he wouldn't be tempted anymore, and everything would be OK. I was such an idiot. I should've known what he would do, and I should've just stayed. At least then you would’ve been safe. All of this is my fault. If I'd just-” 

“It’s not your fault,” Jason interrupted. He sat forward suddenly, elbows balanced on his knees, a determined look in his eye. “You couldn’t have known what that twisted fuck would do. Staying so he could continue to abuse you? That wouldn’t have solved anything.”

“Of course it would,” Dick said. “It would’ve saved you, just like it saved Tim.”

Jason stilled. “Wait, what?” he said, his tone suddenly razor-edged.

Dick frowned. “After what happened to you, I couldn’t just let him do that to someone else. So when he asked me to come back, I…well, what else could I do?”

Jason’s expression slid through an impressive range of emotions, from disbelief to horror before settling on unholy pissed off. “You can’t be serious,” he gritted. He got up and began to pace back and forth with short, agitated steps. His gun was once again gripped tightly in his right hand, finger wrapped around the trigger. “You went _back_ to him?”

“It was the only way to make sure he wouldn’t hurt anyone else,” Dick said.

“Are you crazy? You really think you can control him by giving him what he wants? All reward, no consequence, like some kind of spoiled child?" Jason grated, his voice hoarse, straining against the sheer volume of emotion that he was clearly struggling to control. 

“I know it sounds crazy, but at least he’s contained. This way, no one gets hurt,” Dick argued. 

“Godammit, you stupid self-sacrificing son of a bitch! You're no better than he is with the fucking Joker!” Jason said, his voice rising to a shout. “And don’t tell me no one gets hurt. What about _you_?”

“As long as he doesn’t hurt anyone else, it doesn’t matter what happens to me," Dick said.

“No! Fuck that, and fuck you, too!” Jason snapped. “I have a real solution, a permanent one, and I’m going to make sure _no one_ has to suffer his shit again, not even you.”

Dick gasped as Jason’s meaning dawned on him. “No, Jay, you can’t! That’s not a solution.”

“It’s the only solution,” Jason said. “People like him, like the Joker, they’ve gotta be put down before they hurt anyone else, because it’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.”

“No, Jason, wait!” Dick stumbled out of his chair, catching at the sleeve of Jason’s jacket as he turned to leave. 

Jason twisted and lashed out at him with the speed of a striking snake, and before Dick knew it, he was on his ass, his nose bleeding from the impact of Jason’s gun with his face - the gun that was currently pointed straight at him, albeit with a badly shaking hand. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Jason snarled, his eyes wild with…an all too familiar look that made Dick’s stomach clench with guilt. 

Dick swallowed hard, and raised his hands in an attempt to pacify him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t protect you, Jason. I would give anything to change what happened, but I can’t change the past. I can only do my best to protect you now. Please, don’t do this. Let me help you.”

Jason glared at him, his entire body shaking with rage and hatred. “You’re a coward, Grayson,” he spat. “I’ll do what you never could – stop the Batman. You want to help me? Stay out of my way.”

Then he was gone, and Dick was alone.


	6. Reckoning

Jason stole into the silent house, sneaking cat quick up the hallways to Bruce’s bedroom. Even after everything that had happened, he still knew this place like the back of his hand – always would, probably. He paused outside the door of Bruce’s bedroom, holding his breath as he reached for the doorknob. 

Suddenly, he heard a moan through the door, loud as a shout for the stillness of the house. His breath hitched in his throat as he realised that Dick was in there right now, letting himself be fucked like the spineless bitch that he was. Honestly, what the hell? 

He had no idea what to think about Dick, or even where he stood with him now. The truth had been nothing short of a total shock to the system, like being woken from a dead sleep by a kick to the groin. Knowing that Dick had been used and abused just as he had been, and hearing him blame himself the way Jason had for so many years, he couldn’t help but sympathise with him. But his choice to placate Bruce rather than stop him – Jason couldn’t abide that. It was repulsive on a visceral level, and it filled him with animal rage.

But as furious as he was with Dick, he didn’t want to hurt him. If anything, he wanted to save the pitiful bastard. Last night, he had gone to bed dreaming of a world where they would both be free, and neither of them would ever have to suffer that sick fuck’s touch ever again. He shook his head. Maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt Dick. Maybe, when the chips were down, Dick would side with him. 

Yeah, right.

He hoped that at the minimum, Dick wouldn’t interfere. Either way, this was going to end tonight. 

He counted five heartbeats, and then turned the doorknob. 

There was a bedside lamp on, bathing the room in a warm amber glow. Jason spied them in the corner, mostly dressed, thank fuck. Bruce had Dick pinned to the wall, fucking into him with those deep, brutal strokes that Jason remembered only too well. 

Dick saw him first, and his warning cry made Bruce whirl on him. 

“What-” 

Jason leapt at Bruce before he could finish that thought, knife slashing the side of Bruce’s neck, missing his carotid by just millimetres. Bruce countered with a kick to the chest that knocked him back a pace or two. 

“Dick warned me you might try this. You didn’t think I’d make it easy for you, did you?” Bruce taunted despite the blood dripping down his neck to stain his collar red.

Jason's only answer was a low growl of hatred that he didn’t even try to contain. 

“Jason, stop! Let’s talk about this,” Dick pleaded from somewhere outside of Jason’s peripheral vision.

Bruce lunged at him, moving impossibly fast for his size. Jason dodged, just barely avoiding the knee aimed at his groin. He backed into a defensive position as Bruce came at him again, striking with such speed and precision that it was all he could do to block him. He suddenly realised that for all his training, it wasn’t enough. _He_ wasn’t enough, and he’d be lucky to escape this room in one piece. 

He couldn’t let Bruce win though, no matter the cost to himself. He could do this – he had to, not just for himself, but for Dick, for Tim, for _Robin_ , whoever the poor, unsuspecting kid might be. With a snarl of righteous indignation, he went on the attack, blade singing. 

“No!” Dick shouted.

Jason pulled up short as Dick kicked at the knife. He managed to evade him, but the momentary distraction gave Bruce just the opening he needed. Jason dropped the knife with a grunt as Bruce’s fist connected with his solar plexus. He staggered back, chest heaving as he struggled to draw breath. 

So much for Dick staying out of this.

He threw his arms up to ward off Bruce’s barrage of attacks, but he’d lost his only advantage, and his chances of winning were dwindling with each vicious hit Bruce scored on him. Jason could take a beating, had had to since he was a kid, but not like this. Bruce wasn’t pulling his punches, and each blow was calculated to deal maximum pain. Jason saw the fist coming at his face, but he was just a fraction too slow to dodge it. The blow cracked his helmet and knocked him on his ass. 

“Is this what you wanted, Jason? My attention?” Bruce asked, his voice low and steady, almost conversational as he leveled a heavy kick to Jason’s side. “I assure you, you have it now.”

Jason grunted in agony. Jesus, Bruce wasn’t even out of breath, and he felt like he’d just gone ten rounds with Clayface. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jason growled, rolling to his feet. “I came here to kill you, you sick fuck.”

“Jason!” Dick admonished, as though he were some sort of errant child with a pottymouth.

“Sick? You mean, because of my relationship with Dick?” Bruce took a menacing step closer to Jason. “I know what we have is…unconventional, but our connection is real.”

“I think I just threw up a little,” Jason sneered.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Bruce said dismissively. “But that’s not what this is really about, is it? You never were overly concerned with social mores. No, this is about you and your unrequited feelings for me, isn’t it?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason said. He saw his knife on the ground a few feet away and surreptitiously circled towards it, making sure to keep Bruce front and centre. “You think that’s what I’m upset about? Not, you know, getting raped on a nightly basis by a fucking paedophile?”

Bruce snorted. “You and I both know that’s not how it happened. If anything, you seduced me.”

“What?” Jason blurted, momentarily taken aback by the sheer incredulity of the statement.

“Think about it. How many times did you flirt with me, touch me, outright offer yourself to me?” Bruce said. “Admit it; more often than not, you solicited sex from me.”

“That’s…no…” Jason shook his head. He hated how Bruce could still reach inside his head, twist him up, and rip him apart. It shouldn’t be possible, and yet…

"And don't pretend you didn't enjoy it, either. All that moaning and pleading - fuck me, harder!" Bruce mocked. "Always harder with you, wasn't it, Jason? You were never satisfied until I'd hurt you." He shook his head sadly. "For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for giving in to the temptation. God knows I tried to resist, but…that’s not an excuse, I know.”

Jason looked up into Bruce’s eyes, filled at the moment with a sort of pitying regret, and was overcome with such intense shame that he was forced to look away. The ornate design of the Oriental rug beneath him blurred before his eyes. He tore the cracked helmet off his head and tossed it aside. “I didn’t want...I never wanted…” 

“Of course you did,” Bruce said softly, “but I know that wasn’t all you wanted. You wanted me to love you, and I just...couldn’t. I failed you. For that, I am truly sorry, Jason.”

“Y-you’re _sorry_?” Jason spat, tears burning dry beneath the rush of white-hot rage. “Fuck you! You don’t get to be sorry, you miserable piece of shit!” He snatched the knife off the ground and lunged at Bruce.

“No, Jay, don’t!”

Seemingly out of thin air, Bruce produced a batarang. Jason barely registered the glint of metal in Bruce’s hand before it sliced his wrist open, forcing him to drop the knife. With a snarl of frustration, he simply flung himself at Bruce. It no longer mattered whether he won or lost, lived or died; he just wanted to make that fucker hurt, the way he did, inside and out, every minute of his miserable existence. 

A flock of batarangs winged towards him, deadly razor edges glittering, but it was too late. Jason was committed, his momentum carrying him towards them, with no time to change course. Then out of nowhere, something slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He rolled out from under the heavy weight and then he realised what had happened. Dick had “saved” him, the stupid interfering bastard.

“Goddammit, you stupid-” Jason froze when he finally registered the metal batarangs protruding from the side of Dick’s head and neck. Blood…there was so much blood.

An inarticulate snarl ripped from Bruce’s throat and suddenly he was everywhere, a terrifying maelstrom of unhinged rage. Too shocked to defend himself, or perhaps he just didn’t want to, Jason closed his eyes as Bruce’s fist ploughed into his face. He felt a crunch and an explosion of pain and then nothing.


End file.
